


runaway

by voirenrose



Series: all my demons greeting me as a friend [2]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Aftermath, Aftermath of Torture, Angst, Anxiety Attacks, Flashbacks, Gen, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Panic Attacks, Peter Parker Has Issues, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Natasha Romanov, Trichotillomania
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-27 08:09:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20404459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voirenrose/pseuds/voirenrose
Summary: "I just- I should have fought them. I should have done better, I should have been the one who died-"The words are out of his mouth before he realises what he's said. Natasha doesn't blink."Do you really believe that, Peter?" And all it takes are those six words for weeks of built up emotions to spill out.





	runaway

**Author's Note:**

> check the tags. the self-harm tag is only there as a precaution - peter pulls on his hair and tears it out as a form on punishment for himself. i don't think this behaviour is necessarily good or helpful, but i think it fits.  
-  
read "murder song (5,4,3,2,1)" first. you don't have to, but it will make much more sense if you do.

"I just- I should have fought them. I should have done better, I should have been the one who died-" 

The words are out of his mouth before he realises what he's said. Natasha doesn't blink.

"Do you really believe that, Peter?" And all it takes are those six words for weeks of built up emotions to spill out. A choked sob rips out of Peter's throat as he buries his face in his hands, rubbing the heels of his palms against his eyes. He doesn't realise his fingers are pulling at his hair until Natasha gently pulls them away from his head. He shouldn't be acting like this - like some emotional hormonal teenager when he is needed by the rest of the world. He owes it to Tony to be better. He can't act like a child when he is one of the worst murderers there are. He tries to take a deep breath, but his lungs seem to small for him. His ribs ache, and his throat is raw from waking up screaming every night. He had FRIDAY soundproof his room after he had woken up Pepper one time, and hasn't bothered anyone since. It's his own fault that he's like this, and so he should deal with it himself as well. "Peter, you need to _breathe._"

_The room spins, and he is four years old again. The plane with him and his parents in it is going down, down, down, and the pilot is trying to tell them to be calm. They crash into a forest area, and his mother's head slams into the seat in front of her. Something dark red is spilling from her forehead, and there's a dip where the front of her head should be. Her brown hair is matted to the side of her face with the red substance, and his father hugs him close to his chest as he squeezes his eyes shut, cradling him into himself as he inhales sharply and tells him to b r e a t h e-_

_He is a thirteen year old boy, watching Uncle Ben bleed out in front of him. He can't catch his breath, and he would have thought it was an asthma attack if the spider bite hadn't cured his asthma, as well as many others of his ailments. The blood is crimson, and splattered on his thrift store jeans, staining them the colour of the wine that he would find lying around every year at the anniversary of his parents' death. There's a gaping hole in the middle of his chest, but Peter's eyes are blurring and he can't remember which side the heart is on, but there is too much blood for this to be normal. Uncle Ben is reaching for his hand, and gesturing him to come closer, so Peter puts their heads together and in his last dying breath his uncle tells him to _ ** _b r e a t h e-_ **

_His hand is shaking as he picks up the gun. The men's hands on his arms is tight enough to hurt, but it's not going to cause any lasting damage. What he's about to do, though- that's permanent. realistically, he knows there's no way out of this. He knows that this is better for Tony, as he wouldn't survive longer than a week without immediate medical care, but still he wishes there was something he could do. He almost refuses to take it, but the cold glare of their captor gives him an idea of what they'd do if he didn't. He apologises to Tony, over and over again and hopes it sinks in before he does the inevitable. Tony is whispering reassurances and trying to give him small smiles, but nothing is going to make this easier. Nothing could make killing your mentor, your **father **easier but still, he inhales and lifts the gun up to Tony's head, and-_

"Breathe, Peter."

He gasps as he's jerked back to the present. At some point, he's managed to crawl onto the floor and under one of the desks in the workshop. Natasha is holding his arm in the same place that _they _had, and he jumps back, hitting his spine against the wall.

"Please don't make me hurt them, I promise I'll do whatever you want, _don't make me hurt him, please,_" A clump of his brown hair is clutched in his fingers, accompanied with a burning pain at the front of his scalp. He tentatively reaches up to poke at the offending area, and winces as his hand comes away sticky with blood. Blood means punishment - means that he's closer to redeeming himself, closer to being _better - _so he reaches up again to pull at another area nearer his crown. Natasha reaches to pull his hand away, her movements slow and steady, but still he flinches. "I deserve this." He mumbles as she sits cross-legged in front of him. He doesn't stop pulling until another clump of hair sticks to the blood coating his fingers.

"We're not going to make you hurt anyone, паук. We just need you to focus." At this, he relaxes slightly, so she continues. "What are five things you see?" He recognises this as a grounding technique that Tony had used before. The name almost makes him throw up in his mouth, but he swallows the bile and tries to look around.

"Hair, b-blood. Hands. Floor. You." He stutters on the second word, but forces it out. Natasha nods encouragingly.

"Four things you can feel. You're doing so well." She is speaking quietly, but firmly. Four things he feels - it's hard to single out, as there is so much input, and he winces at the light even though he is in the shade. He can feel _everything. _The wind coming through the window two floors above them, the vibrations from one of the intern's headphones, the _taptaptap _of Pepper's keyboard upstairs, even slight exothermic reaction from one of Dr. Banner's science experiments upstairs. He tells her these four, but there are so many many more things he can feel. He can feel the way the cold silver of the arrow necklace she is wearing feels against her skin, and he can feel the bright yellow of the Mind Stone embedded in Vision's head in the common area. He can feel the vibrations in the floor as FRIDAY suggests that Natasha activates the _Lights Out __Protocol, Boss made this especially for situations like these-_

"Come on, buddy. Three things you can hear."

Shutters come down over the glass walls of the lab, submerging it in darkness. Still, he can hear a couple arguing in their flat across the street.

"There's a- there's a couple arguing. Across the road. Heartbeats, breathing." He closes his eyes, and focuses on Natasha's voice.

He feels the air shift as she nods. "Two things you can smell." 

"Salt. Sweat."

His lungs are still slightly too small for him, but he can breathe easier now.

"One thing you can taste."

He runs his tongue over his teeth.

"Vomit."

There's about two seconds before he reaches over, grabs the trashcan next to the desk and hurls into it. He would be embarrassed that the Black Widow just saw him throw up, but he figured she'd probably seen worse. She rubs circles onto his back as he retches, bringing up only bile as he hadn't eaten anything yet. Her manicured nails scratch softly against the fabric of his shirt. Once he's finished throwing up, she turns him to face her.

"Let's go get you cleaned up, okay? We can talk later." Peter doesn't have the energy to do anything but walk with her, leaning against her for support. He's taller than her, but she's stronger than she looks. She leads him into the bathroom en-suite. "I'll be waiting outside. If you need me, just say. I'll be right there."

Peter nodded as she walked away. Once he had turned his back on the door and started to run the cold tap to wash his mouth out, she opened it again.

"By the way? I don't think Tony blames you." She smiles softly at him, almost in the same way that Tony had before he-

He shakes his head.

He really needs to rinse his mouth.


End file.
